I am a Coliseum—
Broken, but still standing,
A relic of past glory,
Hinting at a time when I stood tall, whole, and victorious.
When the battles fought within me were always won by the hero.

But slowly, the battles grew harder.
The hero began to falter,
Until she lost everyone.
Until her determination shattered like glass,
Almost as sharp as the razor blade against my walls.
Until crimson blood leaked from her chest,
Staining my jeans as it spilled from our bodies in unison.

She died, and I was left in a gray, hollow way of living.
Trying to make sacrifices of my own flesh
To revive the fearless woman she once was.
But I failed—again and again—
Fighting my own battles,
Facing my own shadowed lions,
Until I, too, was dead.

I've decided to stay that way.
Tablets for writing may record it,
And tablets for pain may propel it.
I drink some water to make it easier to swallow